


An Rather Unortunate Accident

by Mountainmoth



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: But oOOOOH BOI this was the embodiment of chaotic good, I'm tired, It's literally 11:51pm and I've gone over it with grammarly, Other, and that's all the editting I will do, far cry from my usual stuff but you know what?, the concept started chaotic and it was downhill from there, this was a dumpster fire, welp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 06:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19057069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mountainmoth/pseuds/Mountainmoth
Summary: ChaosPrimrose retells the occasion Cyrus, in an attempt of some form of magic, swapped his and H'annit's hair. Unfortunately, that's not all he swapped.Taken from Primrose Azelheart's memoir "All The World's A Stage,"





	An Rather Unortunate Accident

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while listening to Rasputin being played on a 100-year-old organ and then to the tune of the can-can. oh yes, it's one of those.

An extract from “All The World's A Stage,”; A memoir by Primrose Azelhert  
A rather Unfortunate Magic Accident

Travelling with the assortment of travellers that made up our party certainly lead to its own set of unique challenges that would otherwise be quite avoidable. Whether that be forcing a thief and a merchant to share space, an overly friendly cleric that got the whole town following her lead, or H’annit, there was always some sort of issue that I, nor anyone else, had a concrete answer for. And no one put me in that situation more than Cyrus Albright, a name you may recognise as one of the “smartest,” minds that Atlasdam academy has to offer. That is until you take him outside of a library.

There are hundreds I could write about - and I kid you not, hundreds (Ophilia and Tressa tell me there even more since they live so close) - but the one that stays must potent in my mind is one hilarious (or horribly mortifying, depending on who you ask) misadventure with magic.

Cyrus had come across an ancient spell, which in this party is your first sign to run. H’annit - in her infinite wisdom - decided to go with him to test it, as she was learning the ways of the scholar in anticipation of her confrontation with redeye (that is an entirely different matter, perhaps for another chapter). Now what you must understand is we hadn’t yet gone to Marslam; in fact, we were making a stop at Clearbrook, one of the quietest little villages in the entirety of Oresstra. So imagine everyone’s shock when a huge crash comes from the forest, blasts of dust fly through the forest, and shockwaves so large they disturb the river grace our afternoon. We were absolutely stunned. Ophilia - surprisingly - was the first register what had happened and immediately reminded us that that was probably Cyrus, H’annit was probably with him, and considering his spells both were probably very dead. Even Therion - who’s a normal level of compassion is stealing your weapon if you passed out in a battle (I have had to replace a lot of knives) - was absolutely mortified by this realisation. We all immediately got up and ran straight to the blast, Ophilia was ready with her healing spells and Alfyn had any sort of healing balm one could imagine. We were all half expecting a scene closer to the battle hróðvitnir to show its grizzly face, Perhaps one of them was missing a limb, perhaps they may have to stay here forevermore, unable to travel, perhaps they were both dead.

Well, that wasn’t what had happened. We ran to the sight, and has the smoke cleared, what happened became obvious to us: nay, no one was dead. Or - for that matter - injured, but whether the same could be said for their pride was a serious matter of debate, as I wasn’t the first to burst out into laughter (that was Alfyn - I can’t say he has changed).

Cyrus, by what can only be called a minor miracle, had managed to somehow swap the hair on both of their heads. You did not read that incorrectly, my dear readers, Cyrus now sported a light blonde ponytail that swung down to his waist, and H’aanit adorned a small black ponytail tied back with a little blue ribbon in a neat little bow. Why, we were hysterical. Poor H’annit made a futile attempt at rescuing her pride by insisting we stop laughing but as they say, no one can save the damned. Even Ophilia had small tears from her laughter, and Tressa and Alfyn had transcended laughing all together and stopped even making a sound. Even when I mentioned to him earlier that I had been compelled to write about this recollection, he burst into laughter, something that confused our daughter immensely. Cyrus, though, took the sudden change a lot better than H’annit, and though confused, laughed along with us. (Although I don’t think we had actually realised what had happened.) 

When we got back to the Tavern the laughter only continued. The bartender was in stitches, and the bard found finishing his song without breaking into laughter rather hard. As for the rest of the village - well - the “hair incident,” is still famous, even as I write this!

However, it doesn’t end here. Far from it - why, it was only the beginning. 

It was after this event that I noticed Cyrus acting rather nervously. He began scanning across his book over and over, and understandably so - that was what I thought. Turns out he had a better reason than just a hairstyle dilemma, something that would become evident the following morning.

On one side, the morning did bring one advantage: Cyrus and H’annit’s hair were back normal. Unfortunately - in H’annit’s words - “I doth not bethink I’ll beest returning to yond job; I bethink I've experienced more magick than one shouldst in one night than anyone shouldst experience in a life timeth,”. Much more pressingly, Therion was acting incredibly out of character. And I don’t mean leaving Tressa alone or returning items (or though that was included). Why, the first time in ever knowing him, he smiled. At us. And chirped a pleasant “good morning!”. If you’ve read Therion’s memoir (granted; it is short) then you may note that he had never said good morning, nor with a smile, nor a wave. And this continued, while we all stood in amazement. Therion seemed confused, as he tried to argue that he “always acts like this, what’s the matter?”

It was then that I noticed no comment by Cyrus, only to find he was missing from the Tavern’s floor. I decided to ask Olberic - the poor man’s roommate - who said he was still in his room. And so we went to his room, to indeed find the old scholar pouring over books after books, with heavy bags under his eyes, and his hands quick and panicked. His eyes flashed to us like a madman starved of all food before crying. “Dear Gods Primrose you must help me!”

I looked to meet eyes with Olberic, only to find him hurrying down the hall. If you are in fact reading this Olberic, you still owe me a pint.

In the end, Olberic or not, I decided it would be best to see what the matter is. And as soon as he asked him, I got an uncharacteristic outpour of emotion (presumably from the sleep deprivation as he also revealed later he hadn’t touched his bed). Granted, it wasn’t the most uncharacteristic thing that had happened - I was later informed that Therion was handing out cookies to children during this time - but still rather off-putting. As far as I remember, he began by saying. “Oh Primrose, you must listen, you know the spell that lead to the incident yesterday?”  
“Yes,”  
“It turns out since you all came, it’s been cast on you as well! It’s one time only, so H'annit and I are safe, but I fear it may swap even more unfortunate things - like personality, or even magic! Oh heavens, what do I do,”

I still remember the chilling feeling to this day as I put things in place. Therion’s sudden personality change, however hilarious it may be, came with a side effect that I hadn’t accounted for. My stomach immediately hit the floor.  
“Good heavens, what’s the matter, Primrose? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” interrupted my realisation.  
“You could certainly call it that. Therion has been acting rather kind today, and Ophilia, unfortunately, is unaccounted for.”  
Cyrus immediately flung himself up. “Are your thoughts the same as mine, then?”  
I nodded. ‘Unfortunately so.”

We immediately decided that it would be best to look for Ophilia on our own merit, as we didn’t want to panic any friends of ours. We decided to look for her first in the town, The fear that Ophilia had developed Therion’s more, well, illegal traits were present in us both. So, Cyrus asked everyone in town, whilst I searched around the buildings and farms - especially in places that no one was looking out in. But alas, neither us encountered anything. Cyrus’ next plan was to move our search to the Riverlands, as it was likely that Ophilia had acquired Therion’s solitary nature. And indeed, when we ventured out, we caught glimpse of a small figure in white making her way down the path. We immediately yelled her name, and she turned to look at us with a look of disdain that rattles my heart even with the passage of time.  
“So it’s true then,” Cyrus murmured to me under his breath.  
“So it is.” I said in return.

We exchanged desperate glances before approaching.  
“Ophilia,” Cyrus began to plead. “What are you doing out here?”  
“Nothing that you’re at leverage to know,” she immediately snapped back. Another set of desperate glances were exchanged.  
“Let’s return,” I then commented. “It’s much nicer at the Tavern. Besides, Cyrus has got to fix this mess.”  
“Tsch.” Was Ophilia’s response, something to be expected. “What’s there to fix? Besides, with Albright’s half-wit, he’d probably only exaggerate the situation,”

The heartbreak in Cyrus’ eyes was visible to everyone involved. “Half-wit?” he repeated, his voice laden with hurt. “Whatever do you mean by that?”  
“Dear stars Albright,” Ophilia muttered. “Can you not hear? I said what I said, now if you’ll excuse, I must leave.” And with that, I must leave.  
“Ophilia!” I called after her. “Ophilia where are you going?”  
But alas, she didn’t listen.

“Do you really think I’m a half-wit?” Cyrus pleaded.  
“In some ways,” was my only response, before immediately adding. “But that’s not important, Ophilia isn’t cooperating.”  
“Clearly,” Cyrus sighed. “Half-wit. Moreover, how do we get her to come back?”  
I shook my head. “At this rate, it seems we’ve got to follow her until it wears off.”  
Cyrus gave a grim nod. “It seems so.”

And cue the most anxiety full day of travelling one could possibly encounter. We treaded her steps out of the Clearbrook, over the bridge to the desert. The sun started beating down on us, and we began having to loop our way through sand dunes to avoid being betrayed by the sand. Thankfully, she avoided Sunshade, something that would have certainly disrupted our pursuit of her immensely; instead, she wound her way to the north Sunshade sands, and towards the south Cobblestone gap.  
“Where on Earth could she be going?”  
“Ah,” Cyrus murmured. “I have a particularly nasty theory.”  
“What?”  
“I reckon she’s going to Whispermill.”  
My stomach dropped for a second time that day. It made sense - Ophilia was meaning to go there anyway, and Therion’s self-assured independence would mean she felt she could do it alone.  
“Should we stop her?” Primrose muttered.  
“No, she won’t reach there in a day,” Cyrus responded.  
“Right,”

And so we travelled on, soon to be greeted by the craggy stones piled high in the North Cobblestone Gap. While following her became easier, she did occasionally look back increasingly more. I do think my heart stopped every time she did until she stopped entirely, and in the grimmest voice entirely, muttered.  
“I do know you’re following me.”

Cyrus and I immediately looked at each other.  
“What do we do?” He whispered in alarm, only for our questions to do answered. From around the rocks ahead of us came a group of bandits, laughing and veering at Ophilia. They all drew their weapons, everything from clubs to knives were present, only for Ophilia to stare at them like they were only a nuisance for her.  
“You’re pretty smart for a cleric, eh?” One laughed. “Well then, we’ll give you a moment to ask you’re little God for protection, how about it?” The rest of the group gave their laughter, before settling down. Ophilia simply glared at them, before letting out a sigh.  
“I won’t have to do that.” She murmured. “None of you are worth his time, anyway.”  
The bandit’s leader twisted in outrage. “How dare you, you little bitch!” He suddenly thrust a blade out of his pocket and shoved it at Ophilia’s neck.

Cyrus immediately nudged me. “Should we step in?”  
I nodded. “Wait for my word.”  
I reached for my dagger as I waited for the perfect moment, a time where they were all distracted… And the best time came at that precise moment as the rest of the group looked for their own weapons.

Ophilia had seen it too, however. She instantly launched up her staff and yelled.  
“Oh sacred light, shine forth!” Light erupted from the heavens and devoured the ground beneath them. It narrowly missed Ophilia as it struck the group of bandits, almost annihilated the group.  
“Well then,” Cyrus whispered. “Let’s not get on the receiving end of that,”  
I could only agree.

And so we followed her, through the rest of the grand Clifflands, through the pristine land of Rippletide and past the vast rolling sea. Soon we encountered the Flatlands, and as we travelled past the walls of Atlasdam the sun began to set beyond the horizon. Thankfully, Ophilia noticed this too and begun setting up firewood. She sat by her fire late into the evening, until she finally faded into a slumber. We set up our camp nearby and took turns to be sure she didn’t sneak off during the night.

When the morning came, we watched Ophilia closely. But to our relief, she looked entirely confused, stood up and gazed over her surroundings.  
“Good morning Ophilia!” I called, her eyes immediately locked onto mine.  
“Primrose!” She gasped, and ran to join us. “Goodness, I am thankful for you being here! Do you happened to know where I am?”  
“Northern Noblecourt flats, Ophilia. Quite a while away from Marslim, I must say.”  
“Yes, goodness you’re right, what in Aelfric’s name happened?”  
Cyrus too joined us then. “Do you not remember anything from yesterday?”  
“Professor Albright!’ She exclaimed. “I am sorry, I do not. Did something happen?”  
“Well,” Cyrus looked at me before placing his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s start making our way back, and I’ll explain. But it’s good to have you back, Ophilia.”

If one were to have a maximum amount of times one could say “Sorry,” Ophilia would have exceeded it on the journey back alone as we explained what happened. She apologised for the insult, for the bandits, for having us come all the way, for her uncooperativeness. The discussion was lively as it ever was with Ophilia back in the way she was.

At one point, Cyrus decided to ask her about the insult.  
“Ophilia,” he murmured as we passed through the Clifflands. “Do you really reckon I’m a halfwit?”  
She immediately shook her head. “Of course not! You’re far from it Professor Albright.”  
“Please, Cyrus is fine,” He laughed in response. “Well, I’m glad, I would hate to not be in your good graces Ophilia.”  
Ophilia’s cheeks instantly lit red in response. “Why, Cyrus, I doubt you could ever lose my respect,”  
“I’m glad to hear that!” He exclaimed. “By the way, shall we take a break? You’ve gone red, we should probably take a break.”  
“Well,” I laughed. “I do think he can still be half-witted in response to the fairer sex, don’t you reckon Ophilia?”  
She chuckled. “Quite so!”

When we got back, everyone was both surprised and relieved when we retold the tale. And back to us was retold what Therion occupied his day with. Alfyn had come to call his one “Kindness Day,” - as Therion took it upon himself to return all stolen items, help the people of the village, talk to the villagers about whatever subjects they talked about, and at one point proclaimed that we would find us three on his own merit!

The chaos didn’t stop for the next six two days. I was third to be hit, as my magic was swapped with Tressa’s (something I found out in the middle of the desert when I was casting “night ode,” only to be met with a small gust of wind), and on the fourth Alfyn’s fitness was swapped with Olberic. We took that opportunity to battle Redeye, as Olberic felt all the spring of youth that made him such a force in Hornburg all those years ago. But those two are tales for another time.

A few days later was Cyrus’ announcement.  
“I’ve thought about it.” He begun. “And I reckon we should travel to Whispermill next.”  
“That’s a long way,” Tressa commented.  
“It is,” He mulled, but then with a smile, added, “But I do think some us are dying to go,”

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh, I may do more memoir one-shots? They're pretty fun and allow me to incorporate ships so h e h.


End file.
